


All I Know

by Yukurimi



Category: Claymore (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV First Person, best anime mom is depressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:20:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29929182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yukurimi/pseuds/Yukurimi
Summary: Teresa's work and life are solitary and straightforward. With little to distract her, there is little she can do but think, but she often prefers not to.
Kudos: 2





	All I Know

There is a moment where I consider letting him get a hold of me. He has the usual claws and fangs. Quite sharp. I couldn’t begin to guess what that’d feel like.

Oh well. I’m not convinced I could really make it happen. He’s… so _slow._ They all are. Next to me they are, anyway.

So, let’s see… off with his head? I’ve not done it that way for a while, I think.

Now I have. There it goes. Blood everywhere.

The least they could do is be good at hiding. I walked three days to get here, and the thing’s dead already. It’s best that way, of course. Someone could get hurt if it dragged out, and what if I got blamed for it?

But…

Well. Would it really matter? I’m not going to enjoy it if it takes a couple of seconds longer.

There’s a crowd forming now. All their faces blur together. I’ve seen them all too many times to count, just… not here. Someone I’ll never see again is screaming, their face freshly-stained. They're horrifed, I'm sure. I say something to them. It’s probably quite witty, but it doesn’t matter.

It takes a little while for the commotion to die down. Someone comes up to me with a bag of jangling coins, and a reply as old as dirt comes out of my mouth easier than a breath.

And then I’m gone.

What was that town’s name? It’s just on the tip of my tongue…

Ah, never mind. 

I’ll just forget it again.

***

It’s a few days walk to my next destination. The ritual is familiar; first I balk and sigh at the distance, then it passes before I know it. If it weren’t for the ache in my legs, I’d be half-convinced I’d never even gone anywhere.

But now I’m somewhere else. It’s late in the day. People are retreating to their homes.

I hear a trickle of laughter coming from an open window. I wonder for a moment what prompted it—but it silences as I pass by, and out the corner of my eye I spy a lit, crowded dinner table beside a warm, crackling fire.

It doesn’t bother me. Should it? It doesn’t. I feel no different than I did a moment ago.

Better that way.

My quarry has the decency to be hiding in a home this time, and to have a… sister, perhaps, to distract.

He is also reckless enough to stand close to a door made of just wood.

I pierce him through the chest. He gurgles and dies. The woman screams and flees. Bloody splinters scatter across the floor.

For a moment I wonder whether it would matter if I’d picked the wrong one somehow. The answer’s obvious, but I’m not sure I believe it.

Word spreads. People come to gawk and stare. It dies down quickly enough. It always does, once they see the body for themselves.

Now, what to do next… I’m rather tired, actually.

A human said to me once that there’s nothing more satisfying than a warm, soft bed after a long day. I don’t know why that stuck with me, of all things—the speaker didn’t, but the words did. It’s different, I guess. Humans speak most comfortably with humans, for the most part.

Tonight I’m reminded that a cold, narrow one suits me more.

***

There’s a girl clinging to me now. It’s quite bothersome. I told her I’d kick her if she didn’t stop, and she hasn’t.

In a way, it’s exciting. I have to try even less hard than usual.

There we go. I hardly feel a thing, but the delusional brat goes straight to the ground. Rolls a little ways too, but she’ll survive.

I think about her as I walk away. She looked rather frail; a sickness might take her a year after I’m gone, or maybe only a month. I would never know.

So what difference would it make if I’d shattered every bone in her body, save that the fault is mine? Hardly any, to me.

It’s been an amount of time since I left when footsteps come from behind. Small, quick, frantic. They draw nearer and nearer and then they slow, and the heavy breaths that follow are quiet.

There’s little doubt who it is. What could she possibly be after? I don’t know, and I don’t think I want to change that.

But I feel… do I feel something? I’m not sure. Maybe I’m fooling myself. My journey is… well, it’s different now than the last one. There’s a noise I wasn’t hearing then. Does that make a difference?

Not really. She can’t follow me forever, and she seems to be keeping her distance. In a few hours it’ll all be the same.

So why should I do anything about it?

I wait for the footsteps to stop. They don’t. There is nothing for her. Not here. She has to know this. I keep waiting. They keep coming. Why is that?

She should be looking for a bed. Something soft and warm.

Well. If she can’t make the right choice, someone needs to make it for her.

That cliff should suffice. It’s rather tall. Off the edge I go, and now I’m on the ground.

I look up. The girl’s on top of the cliff; she’s staring down at me, not moving a muscle. Has she no sense at all?

Why am I asking that? I already know.

She moves. Good. That’s good.

Forwards. She’s—no, she can’t, is she—? No. Who would be that stupid?

She is.

Why does that matter? I… if she…

I’m never going to see her again, so what… why…

The fall is long, and I am swift and strong. If I wanted to, could I…?

She’s done it herself. There’s a branch jutting from the cliff. Her arms wrap around it; she gasps and grunts, her eyes steely and her cheeks puffed out.

The branch breaks. She keeps falling. I don’t…

She hits the ground, rolls across it, throws up dust and dirt. 

She lies very still.

I—I feel something. It’s a small, distant something, wriggling in my gut. But it’s there. It’s there, and I don’t like it.

There’s nothing I can do. Not really, is there?

She’s a human. This is not the place for her.

So I walk away. The woods are quiet now. Nothing to distract me. I’m thinking. Can’t stop thinking. Would be easier if I could, but I can’t.

It shouldn’t matter, but…

She’s still there, when I return. Hasn’t moved at all. But she’s breathing. That’s…

It does.

Yes. It does matter.

Why? I don't know. But I know that it does. That is all, but shouldn't that be enough?

When did I become this cowardly way?

Her hair is filthy and ragged, but I imagine it would be quite a pretty brown if it were clean. She’s thin and pale, her skin stretched tightly over her bones. What else is there to notice, that is hers and hers alone? 

Something. I will find something that I can do for her. It is within my power, as few things are. 


End file.
